Iliana might have been taken off Second Salem-watching by Elvira and Niamh might have been satisfied, but that didn't mean that Iliana herself was. Credence weighed on her mind with his scarred hands, the memory of Mary Lou Barebone dragging her over the rail to scream in her face a terrible reminder of what he must have had to deal with for most of his life. She couldn't imagine a world where the only family she knew treated her that way.

Iliana was dressed in a flowing dusty rose dress with a draped shoulder, hat pinned into her hair and a cardigan thrown over her shoulder. She was without Gus today to better blend in with the crowd. The cloche shadowed her face and made it easier for her to hide in the back of the small crowd. She moved round the fringes of those who had stopped to listen to Mary Lou's vitriol, listening as they mocked her behind their hands.

She could see Credence standing on the grass of Central Park not far from his mother, shaded by a large tree. People gave him a wide berth and Iliana winched as she watched him hesitantly extend flyers in the direction of the path as people barreled past, unwilling to look at him if they even noticed he was there. His eyes remained glued to the ground and she wondered what he would look like if he stood tall. He might even be a full six feet in height, taller than she by a good bit.

"Oh!" Iliana made a small sound of surprise as she saw two children harrying the youngest of Mary Lou's wards. Modesty, that was her name, and she was wrinkling the flyers in her hands clutching them so hard as two freckle-faced boys ran around her and tugged at her braids.

"Boys!" Iliana hissed, casting a nervous glance back at the crowd. She didn't want to risk drawing eyes to her, especially after Mary Lou had already taken after her once. But the poor little girl looked close to tears and she couldn't just leave her there to be teased.

The two boys whipped around and cringed when they saw her striding towards them. At the sight of an adult coming up to them, and one as well-dressed as Iliana was, they turned and fled down the path, presumably back towards their mothers. Staring after them with a huff, Iliana crouched down before the young girl.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently. Modesty sniffled and nodded, her grip on her flyers slowly loosening. "What were they saying to you?"

Modesty raised a hand to rub at her eyes and Iliana resisted the urge to wince at the sight of how thin her wrist was. "Th-They said that… I was a freak, and… and… and I was ugly and stupid!"

"Well, that's ridiculous!" Iliana exclaimed. "You're a lovely little girl!"

Modesty sniffled again, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She quickly smothered it and shook her head fiercely. "Mama says it's vain to think you're pretty!"

Iliana tilted her head. "Well, maybe," she admitted, "if that's all you think about. But here's the thing. People are hardwired to like certain things. Symmetry is one – when things are the same on both… sides…" She tapped each of Modesty's cheeks with a finger, then her nose. Modesty giggled, raising a hand to her nose. "And you're very symmetrical!"

"Thank you, Miss," Modesty said shyly.

"I'm certain you're not stupid, and you don't look like a freak to me," Iliana assured her. "Trust me, I've met a few," she added conspiratorially, and Modesty giggled again. "You look just like a little doll!"

Modesty's rising mood faltered a little bit, casting a wary glance at Mary Lou, who hadn't noticed them. She was too enraptured by the sound of her own voice, Iliana thought derisively. "Mama says dolls are bad. They make children soft. If I ask for one, I'm being greedy."

"Now that's just not true," Iliana insisted, resisting the urge to walk over the throttle the No-Maj woman right there in front of everyone. Modesty was young and obviously still not quite under her mother's thumb, not nearly to the point Credence was. But already Mary Lou was making her mark and forcing the young girl to question every move she made for fear of doing something wrong. "Every girl should have a doll. Do you know why?" she asked, pulling most of this out of thin air as she spoke, the sort of fanciful things people told children but she'd never had occasion to try and think up before.

Modesty shook her head.

"A doll is a friend," Iliana explained. "Someone you can tell your secrets and your troubles to. They may not be able to help, but sometimes just talking through things can help you feel better about them. You feel less crazy if you have someone to talk to instead of yourself," Iliana added, crossing her eyes for effect, and Modesty gave a small, squealing laugh before covering her face with her flyers.

Iliana opened her purse and thrust her hand inside. It only took a whisper and a flick of her wand inside the depths.

"Modesty, I want you to have something," she said, and pulled out a small rag doll. She had yellow yarn hair and blue button eyes, just like the little girl. She wore a cornflower blue dress and a little white apron. Modesty's eyes went wide as saucers as she stared at the doll. "I think this little doll would love to be your friend."

Modesty raised a hand like she desperately wanted to take the doll, but there was another hesitant look over her shoulder towards her mother. Then something in the little girl's jaw hardened and she reached out, snatching the doll and tucking her protectively against her chest.

"You may have to hide her from your mother," Iliana warned, "but she's very good at listening."

"She's pretty," Modesty murmured, sounding awed. "I'm gonna call her Lissy. That was my Mommy's name. My real mommy," she added a little bitterly.

"That's a perfect name," Iliana agreed. She reached into her bag once more and with a flick of her wrist produced two wrapped peppermints. "And here's a treat for you and Lissy. I think you both will be wonderful friends."

Modesty reached up, plucking the candies from Iliana's outstretched palm. "I know who you are," she said matter-of-factly, and Iliana raised her eyebrows.

"What?" she asked, bemused. "What do you mean?"

"You're Credence's girl," Modesty announced, and Iliana flushed, looking in the direction of the dour figure under the tree. Credence was looking up and watching them, an enraptured expression on his face. Iliana flushed. The minute he saw her looking, he did the same, averting his eyes and shifting nervously.

"Now, Modesty." Iliana laughed nervously. "Credence and I… your brother and I aren't…"

"It's okay, miss," Modesty was quick to assure her, beaming. "I won't tell Ma like Chastity did. I like you. Credence does too. I think you're good enough for him."

Iliana blinked, smiling uncertainly, not at all sure how to take that. It was obvious that Chastity had seen her with Credence and drawn her own assumptions, Modesty picking up on them. The girl had interpreted it as something romantic between herself and Credence when the reality was that they barely knew each other. In fact, Iliana was confident that he seemed so touch-starved she'd feel like she was taking advantage of him and his fragile state if she so much as held his hand.

It was obvious though that Modesty idolized her older brother and knowing that she had the younger girl's approval if that was the situation was… oddly moving.

"Thank you Modesty," Iliana replied. "I have to go, but hopefully I'll see you and Lissy again sometime."

"That'd be nice," Modesty said dreamily as Iliana straightened. She jerked in surprise as Modesty wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed tightly before releasing her and running off to join Credence under the tree. He looked up at her again for just a second before turning his focus to Modesty.

Feeling both conflicted and touched, Iliana turned on her heel and hurried from the park.

Credence watched the entire time from under the brim of his hat as Iliana spoke to Modesty. His heartrate had picked up to a heady pound when he'd seen her, and watching her crouch down and speak with Modesty with a smile on her face, something faintly protective in her posture, had sent his mind spinning down the road to his favorite fantasy of domestic bliss once more.

Soon enough though, she was saying her goodbyes and Modesty was running to him, clutching whatever Iliana had passed her tightly to her chest and obviously trying to hide it. Modesty hadn't yet learned how to really be sneaky. She would though. Living with Ma did that.

"Credence!" Modesty called, and Credence turned to face her. "I met your girl!" she whispered, bounding up on her toes, eyes brighter than Credence had seen in weeks.

Credence's own eyes widened and he felt his ears burning red at the assumption that Iliana was in any way his. He might have hoped and dreamed of that but the reality was that a girl like her probably had suitors up to her ears, suitors much better than him. Suitors who didn't have a patchwork of lines across their back. Suitors whose hands didn't shake at every unexpected noise.

"Sh-She's not…"

"Oh, I know it's a secret," Modesty assured him, stepping even closer. "But look!" She unfolded her hands, revealing a small ragdoll sitting in her palms. The doll was only the size of his palm and made of cloth with a simple dress and apron. The way Modesty held it though it might have been one of those expensive bisque ones with the painted faces and the satin dresses that had tea parties in the windows of toy shops.

"She just gave her to me!" Modesty said delightedly. "I'm going to call her Lissy!"

Credence had always vastly preferred his little sister to Chastity, and his heart warmed to see her so happy. Such an emotion was rare and to be cherished living with Mary Lou. Any time he could shield her from the harsh reality of that he tried to, but there was only so much he could do to keep her away from the worst of it. Seeing her so happy to have a toy, the only one she owned, Credence felt the urge to get down on his knees and thank Iliana for her kindness, for giving that to the little girl.

"But…" Modesty suddenly looked terrified. "How am I gonna get her home? If Ma sees Lissy, she'll take her away!" She clutched the doll tightly to her chest. It was plain to see that despite having the doll for all of ten minutes Modesty was already desperately attached.

Credence thought fast, whipping off his hat and offering it to his sister. "I'll hide her in my hat," he explained. "I'll give her back when it's safe."

Modesty lit up. "Thank you, Credence!" She gave the doll one last cuddle before carefully dropping her into Credence's hat. He replaced it on his head fingers fluttering around the edge to make sure no stray bit of fabric or yarn was poking out. He was certain there wasn't, but already he could feel stress and paranoia tightening his neck and shoulders, terrified that Ma would somehow know.

"She also gave me these," Modesty confided, holding out her palm where two small peppermints rested. "She said to share them with Lissy, but I know she's only a doll. I want you to have it."

"Th-Thank you, Modesty."

Credence reached out, hand trembling, and took the small peppermint from his sister's hand. He tucked it into his pocket, feeling something tighten in the back of his throat. Modesty looked up, giving him a secretive smile as she stored hers inside the neck of her dress. "It'll be our little secret."

Elvira,

I don't know how to say this, so I will just come out and say it: Frank isn't the only illegal thing I've become involved in on this trip. I've made many mentions of my business in Africa but I've never given details, and for good reason. What I'm about to tell you is far more than a smuggled thunderbird or a question about American wizarding life. The only reason I'm risking getting you involved is that despite our short and somewhat odd acquaintanceship, I trust you.

That, and I can't think of anything else to do.

I came to this part of Africa following reports of a young witch with a strange lack of control over her powers. I had nothing but a theory based on the reports I'd heard, but I hoped that I could help. It was only after arriving in her village and seeing the state her victims were in that my theories were confirmed. The girl is an Obscurial.

I've no idea if you have any knowledge of Obscurials or how you feel about them, but I'm at my whit's end. The poor girl can't even move or speak. The only times she shows any signs of life are when her Obscurus takes hold and uses her body for it's own will. I'm not even sure if she'll survive long enough to get a letter back from you, but combined with some remedies her family knows, she's already held on longer than most expected. All I can do is hold out hope.

My plan was to try and find a way to separate her from her Obscurus. I hope that in doing that, she might be able to live a normal life. However, as you know the Obscurus is a parasite that makes its host very dangerous, meaning most Obscurials end up dead fairly quickly. As far as my research has shown, no one has ever attempted such a thing. I don't even know if it's possible, but as I've said, I have to hope.

Please, Elvira. Anything you know, anything that might help me save this young girl. I'm desperate.

Newt

P.S. This is probably the first time this sentence has ever been conceived, but thank you for your Howler. It meant a lot.

Elvira's hands were shaking as she held Newt's latest letter. She'd received it expecting something about the house system at Ilvermorny, a review of Cactus Cat Juice, maybe some witty comment about her aunt Ingrid's journal, but this?

Elvira sat back as the memories came flooding back. She remembered, mind flashing to bodies, grey and lifeless, covered in a cracking pattern no one could explain. Fences ripped out, a barn torn to shreds, pieces of a windmill impaled so deeply and forcefully into the ground that they'd sliced a cow in half, the smell of intestines rotting in the sun filling the air. Her father's friends, Rivera and Ellis, screaming as the wind whipped…

And then the No-Majs showed up with words like 'mysterious disease' and 'freak tornado' and 'act of God' and she'd stood there, limp against the fence, heart broken yet somehow still beating, wondering just how in the hell a person could be so determined to see the normal in the impossible. How could anyone look around at the carnage around them and think that this was an act of God? This was something dark, she could still feel it lingering in the air, sliding against her skin, prickling the back of her neck, and…

Elvira gasped as he breath began to come fast and sharp. She doubled over, putting her head between her knees and forced her lungs to cooperate, slowing to a more reasonable speed. It took several minutes for the shaking in her hands to subside, for her stomach to settle to the point where she felt like she wasn't going to throw up. The smell of cow intestines in the sun still filled her nose…

Elvira sat up in her chair and pulled a piece of parchment towards herself. If Newt was involved with an Obscurial than anything she knew might help. Luckily for him, unluckily for her, that day was still perfectly ingrained in her mind. No detail would ever escape her, not as long as she lived.

Newt,

If you check the records then there hasn't been a sighting of an Obscurial in the United States in over a hundred years. I'm here to tell you that's bullshit because I saw one myself several years ago, in some tiny little religious town in Utah. For a long time it was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen and I'm ashamed to say that, for the sake of my life and the lives of the men who came out investigating with me, we attacked the boy and he ended up dying despite our best efforts.

His name was Thomas Crane and I can still hear him screaming as one of Ellis's spells hit him. I didn't mean to Newt, I swear to Mercy Lewis I didn't, but all I can think is that the Obscurus had already drained poor Thomas past the point of no return. He had Ellis, he was killing him, and Ellis's wife had just had twin girls, they couldn't be without a father… My spell wasn't nice, it hit straight in the middle of it and… and I don't know. The Obscurus stopped and shuddered, like it was in pain, and then it just exploded and poor Thomas dropped out of the middle of it.

He was dead.

Thomas's parents were deeply religious, they kept him locked up and tried to beat the magic out of him. The only reason Ellis and Rivera and I went out there was because of reports of strange things happening in the area. We wanted to make sure it wasn't some rogue wizard or magical creature. It was too minor for the Aurors to care about, seeing as there wasn't a wizarding community close enough to be at risk. We decided to take it upon ourselves to try and find out what was going on.

We had no idea what we were walking into. The Obscurial shocked us. We arrived in time to find it killing Thomas's parents. We weren't sure what it was at first, that's why we attacked straight off, but then it started darting around, expanding, tearing things apart, and Rivera realized. He's been around for a long time, he'd seen one down in Mexico. He knew what we were dealing with and stayed well back. Ellis had no idea, he tried to get in close and that's how the Obscurus got a hold of him.

The No-Maj authorities showed up. They took our word about being travelers looking for a place to spend the night when we found the Crane farm, but they kept insisting it was a freak tornado. Of course, we couldn't tell them what it was. They just wrote it down as a random tragedy and moved on with their lives. There was a blade from a windmill driven through a cow, Newt!

And then, because we'd used magic in a No-Maj area the Aurors showed up and no matter what we told them they wouldn't hear anything about an Obscurial. "There hasn't been one sighted in the United States in over a hundred years." They just kept saying that over and over, like it meant that there couldn't possibly be one ever again, like it was some kind of animal that had gone extinct. They took one look at us – A Blödgarmr, a Mexican, and Ellis, a disgraced Auror – and wrote us off as troublemakers. I've never had much use for Aurors, and now I've valid reason to dislike them after what was done to me, but I'd never disliked any of them personally until that day.

It was only afterward that I was able try and understand what we'd come up against. Reading is, unfortunately, not all that useful as most people who encounter an Obscurial are bent on extermination. Most of what I'd found was more focused on how to kill them then how to remove or destroy them without harming the host. In the end, the best information that I can think of that might help you, I got from Rivera.

The Obscurial he found in Mexico was killed, unfortunately. But the girl was a favorite of local witch named Maria Ramirez. Most people didn't want anything to do with Señora Ramirez but the Obscurial was always kind to her – much to the horror of her parents. To that end, Señora Ramirez kidnapped her and tried to cure her. She was a clever woman, apparently, because she'd nearly managed it before the girl's parents found her. The girl became enraged and couldn't be calmed. Ultimately, Señora Ramirez was killed along with the girl's parents and she rampaged through two cities before the local Aurors put her down.

Rivera had copies of Señora Ramirez's notes on how to potentially cure and Obscurial and he made me copies. He saw how upset I was by Thomas and how much I blamed myself for his death. He thought it might help me to have the basis of a backup plan if I ever found one again.

Keep in mind, Señora Ramirez never finished her work. What I'm passing on to you is incomplete research, but based on my own I can tell you it's the best advice you're going to find. Everything else just says 'kill it.' It's barbaric, slaughtering children who never did any harm to anyone. It's the Obscurus inside of them that does the harm and it's never their fault that they developed one. It's their parents or their society.

Newt, please. It's clear to me that you very much value life and I'm begging you not to hold Thomas Crane against me. I already hate myself enough for what happened to that poor boy. We haven't been in contact for very long but I've become rather fond of you. I couldn't bear it if you hated me.

Elvira

P.S. Some of the ingredients you'll need are going to be impossible for you to find in West Africa and I've no idea how stocked a potions cabinet you keep. Anything even remotely tricky I've included in this package. Best of luck, Newt Scamander.

Newt held the letter in trembling hands. He couldn't imagine it. He'd seen the aftermath of some of the Sudanese girl's rampages but she'd been kept sedated in hopes that would slow the progression of the Obscurus' influence over her. Being caught in the middle of that destruction, not knowing what was going on, and then seeing his friend and colleague in danger – he didn't blame Elvira for lashing out even if he did regret the fate of poor little Thomas Crane.

But once again he'd asked and Elvira had answered with more than he'd ever hoped. The notes from Señora Ramirez filled his hands. He saw what she meant about the work being incomplete. She'd sent along the original Spanish and her own English translations. Both were peppered with question marks and Elvira had clearly tried to make a little progress on the woman's work but hadn't succeeded. Still, it was more information than he'd dreamed of having. He'd been expecting confirmation of his own plan to extract the Obscurus and perhaps a vague idea of how such a thing might be accomplished, not three-quarters of a potion and ritual which would hopefully save the girl's life.

Elvira had even sent along some of the ingredients Señora Ramirez had deemed critical in her research, and good thing she had. Some of them were things that would be impossible to find on this continent or things he was running low on. Two he wasn't even sure what they were until he saw the plant and realized Señora Ramirez and Elvira both had noted it down with a regional name.

Newt shook his head. He'd been killing himself over this for days and Elvira had provided so much more than he'd ever dreamed! To think that such a brilliant and educated woman was confined to New York City for some reason… It killed him to recall the sadness in her letter when she considered never managing to travel to Africa. She was an amazing woman and she was persecuted because of her surname and one single action.

Newt shook his head, lunging to his feet with notes and ingredients in hand, ready to change a girl's fate.